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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 6
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.6
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Open
Sky World
≈ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.
≈ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.
≈ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.
≈ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.
≈ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.
≈ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.
≈ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!
List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive
#3 (Delicious.com) Archive <-- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion
Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 4/?
(Anonymous) 2014-01-24 12:13 am (UTC)(link)And a general plea for assistance: Can any of you dear readers help me obtain a screenshot from the inside of Leonardo’s workshop in Venice? I’m talking about a general screenshot; much like the look you can get of the pre-timeskip workshop in Firenze while carrying the dead guard inside. This may be a plea that applies more to anyone with the PC version, admittedly… Mostly, I just need to figure out if the corpse-room is still present. But, for further encouragement: Anyone getting me that information, however you manage it, will get a (mini)fill on a prompt of their choosing :D.
Firenze, December 1475
It was a mild day, the sun warming the streets and chasing away the cold of the oncoming winter. A myriad of people were out and about, basking in the sunlight, and eagerly discussing utterly vapid and pointless things while fighting innocently for the more sunny spots of cobblestone. Leonardo had laid claim to the small bench in the even smaller courtyard beside his home and and workshop, scowled at anyone trying to enter, and had filled nearly an entire sheet of paper with sketches of the dozens of birds that had flocked to the courtyard - lured in by and now busy with gorging themselves on the seeds he had laid out.
He was occupied with trying to catch the glint of light in green feathers - even though he was working with red chalk, and he added a mental note to his already extensive collection of mental notes to start noting down colours beside his drawings - when the birds were spooked by someone entering the courtyard and coming to a stop next to the bench. Taking a small breath, Leonardo readied himself to scowl and angrily ask why people were disturbing his birds - hoping that it would not have the same poor outcome as when Archimedes had asked the same of a passing guard about his circles.
“You should buy caged ones. They don’t spook so easily,” Andrea del Verrocchio dryly commented, having known Leonardo long enough to wager a guess at the younger artist’s thoughts.
“I prefer to see them free,” Leonardo said, his anger at the disturbance utterly forgotten, and clambered to his feet, very nearly falling flat on his face when he realised that his left foot - the leg on which he had rested his sketchpad - had fallen asleep. “It’s good to see you, Maestro! You look well. Please, how can I be of service?”
Andrea’s smile soured, leaving an annoyed and slightly disgusted expression in its wake. “Order business,” he said, voice kept low, and gave a quick glance upwards, gaze sweeping over the roofs above them. “Can we talk inside?”
Leonardo, mouth suddenly dry, swallowed nervously and audibly, all thoughts of birds forgotten. And inside the workshop, he quickly went about fetching wine for them both, while his old teacher checked the windows and rafters for prying eyes.
Once they were certain that they did not have an assassin overhearing the conversation, they finally settled down - Leonardo managing to stealthily hide the last sketches he had made of his two regular boys from La Rosa while Verrocchio was temporarily distracted with the failed design for a flying machine.
“Interesting idea, Leonardo. Though I still cannot see how something that much heavier than air can fly,” Verrocchio said, accepting the small cup handed to him, utterly obvious to the sketches quickly and rudely shoved into the shelf, and sat down in the well-worn chair.
“A goose is much heavier than air, and it flies,” Leonardo replied, and was about to launch into an enthusiastic tirade of his discoveries in aerodynamics; of surface-to-weight-ratios, and to fetch the multitude of calculations he had done, when his old teacher’s look made his mind stop dead in its tracks. “... It is just an idea I'm toying with.”
Verrocchio’s lips quickly quickly upwards into a wry smile. “Perhaps. In any case… I have unsettling news. Grand Master Lombardi has fallen ill, and it is unlikely that he will survive for long. There are already certain… people who have begun to move for the position. Rodrigo Borgia, in particular, has already eliminated much of his potential competition.”
Leonardo swore appropriately, even if his dislike for the man so far was entirely from second-hand accounts.
“Miei pensieri esattamente, Verrocchio said, appearing amused at Leonardo’s linguistic creativity. “Though I am not entirely sure that is anatomically possible. In any case, our Florentine brothers will likely call us to a summit soon to discuss the matter, and to decide with whom we should place our support.”
“Most are either already men of the Borgia or will be too afraid to go against him,” Leonardo said with a glare at his cup, suppressing an uncharacteristic urge to throw it against the nearest wall, and settled for clenching his empty hand instead. “He has rallied most of the enemies of the Medici behind him as it is, and bribed or bullied many others into joining.” Verrocchio raised an eyebrow at this, and Leonardo continued: “I… have a few sources that have told me as much.” He left out that those sources happened to frequent La Rosa, with a particularly talkative one of those had visited Leonardo’s bottega a few months before, and Emilio Russo’s frequent, encoded letters had kept him updated on what went on in Venice as well. “He has already filled much of our Order with like-minded people, ensuring that he will be able to take the title practically unopposed. And, most likely, manage to set us even further back than the Assassins could ever hope to accomplish!”
“Peace, Leonardo,” Verrocchio said, and gave the younger man a moment to compose himself. “Perhaps the Order will flourish under Borgia rule,” he said, sipping his wine calmly. “It is possible that Rodrigo will manage to push us further towards our goal of uniting humanity under one banner.”
“It is also possible that he merely seeks power for himself, and does not care for any that stand in his way,” Leonardo spat.
“Or that.” The older sculptor nodded in agreement. “The Pazzi, the Barbarigo, and the Borgia have been old and powerful families in the Order. Their wealth and influence have granted us access to places and knowledge we would have been unable to reach otherwise, and their power held in check by a Grand Master true to our cause. I suppose..,” Verrocchio paused, a wry, almost amused smile crossing his face,” I suppose that we have spent so long fearing the Assassins that we forgot to pay attention to il nido del serpente among ourselves.”
“Then what can we do, insegnante? Those of us still true to the Order are scattered, and even less in any positions to move against Rodrigo without risking their lives,” Leonardo asked, frustrated with his own impotence in the matter.
“There are still many of us, Leonardo, and while we may not rank high in the Order, many have power outside it,” Verrocchio replied, unaffected by his former student’s fidgeting. “We do as we always have. Mask our moves, continue our work, and use the Assassins.”
Of course Leonardo had - because fate had nothing if not a cruel sense of humour - decided just a moment before to take a drink to calm his nerves, and found himself at a sudden mix of stunned, shocked, and choking. “What!” he tried to say, only to break into a cough as his whole body tried to dislodge the fluid. “What?” he tried again after that, voice hoarse and broken. A third attempt, preluded by a heavy swallow, finally allowed him to, flatly, ask: “What.”
“The Assassins believe themselves to stand against corruption. All one needs to do is to make an undesirable person appear utterly foul and corrupt, and divert the Assassin’s attention to them,” the sculptor said with far too calm a smile. “And then our piccolo problema will gone in a blur of white cloth dropping from a rooftop.”
Leonardo shuddered, trying not to think too hard on how his teacher had come across this knowledge. “I see,” he said, seeing only too clearly. And he who had thought that the Assassins’ reputation as ruthless killers were solely due to the Templars’ rumours!
“It’s a shame no one yet know the identity of Il Assassino da Firenze, or we could solve our upcoming problem within the next month,” Verrocchio continued, frowning. “However, it is highly unlikely that the Assassin - or Assassins; I suspect several live in Firenze alone - know of our involvement with the Order, seeing as we both are affiliated with the Medici. That should allow us to inquire further.”
“No one has caught Il Assassino and lived to tell about it,” Leonardo said. “I suppose that, if he remained unaware, he could be a powerful ally against Rodrigo and his supporters…”
“And that will be our strategy.” Verrocchio positively beamed. “If it is of any comfort, my dear boy, it will be far from the first time that the Assassins have been tricked into eliminating troublesome individuals within our Order. Why, if one apparently pays generously enough, they will not even question who the target is!”
Leonardo nodded mutely, and, for a moment, the two artists sad still; the silence between them stretching until it approached awkwardness.
“Come, Leonardo,” Verrocchio said, putting down his empty cup on the small table that often doubled for Leonardo as a sketchboard, workplace, and, after a long night where his head would not stay quiet, pillow. “We shall go into the city. See if we cannot begin to sow the seeds among the Assassins and their followers. Perhaps we will be lucky, and our ‘issue’ taken care of before we need to get further involved.”
“Would that not be putting ourselves at an unnecessary risk?” Leonardo cautiously asked, even as he scrambled to his feet as well.
“A risk? Oh, no, Leonardo, no risk at all,” Verrocchio chuckled, brushing a bit of imaginary dust off his clothes. “Why, you are a brilliant young painter in the employ of the Medici, I am a brilliant sculptor who were once at the very heart of Piero de Medici’s court, and, together, we just happen to be concerned and unsettled by the rumours we have heard from our Assassin-friendly patrons. It is a wonderful day, and so we merely take the conversation to the streets, and trust the Assassins’ long ears to ‘accidentally’ overhear our complaints when we withdraw to a deserted spot with low roofs to discuss it in detail.”
“And they call me the madman,” Leonardo muttered under his breath as Verrocchio pulled the door open, and they stepped onto the permanently busy piazza outside the workshop to begin spreading the word of Rodrigo Borgia.
Re: Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 4/? -OP
(Anonymous) 2014-01-26 06:47 pm (UTC)(link)so that's where Ezio comes in, hmmm~
(for fics that are more or less canon-compliant/not totally au, when reading early chapters I always get the feeling that like I know vaguely how things would come together later, but the characters don't, not yet anyway, and it's so interesting/wonderful/strange to see them act with no idea how everything's gonna change. I love it <3 can't wait to see where this will lead! )
Re: Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 4/? -A!A
(Anonymous) 2014-01-26 08:46 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 4/? -OP
(Anonymous) 2014-01-27 06:00 am (UTC)(link)Re: Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 5/?
(Anonymous) 2014-02-04 09:14 pm (UTC)(link)Also, reviews feed the plotbunnies. :D (wink, wink, nudge, nudge to all but dear, faithful OP)
Firenze, January 1476
Leonardo hummed to himself as he pocketed his trusty wrench and the small hammer he used for hammering in pins, trying to appear the very image of innocence as he left the small, murky alley leading to Il Duomo - one used primarily by patrolling guards and people in too much of a hurry to focus on anything but their destination.
“Leonardo!” Verrocchio called, heading down one of the many stairways of the streets, where old bits of the city had sunk or risen or simply been planned with no regards towards the level of the other roads, waving his arm briefly to catch the younger man’s attention.
Leonardo hurriedly wiped the grease from his hands. “Maestro,” he said, surprised. “How can I be of service?”
“I have various news,” the sculptor replied, folding his hands and looking stately. “About some of our other... business.”
Leonardo nodded, stepping aside when the usual guard patrol came around the corner and, as they always did, headed down the dark alley.
“Unfortunately, it seems that Grandmaster Lombardi’s illness was worse than we sus-,” Verrocchio started, only to find himself interrupted by a sudden scream from the alley, and a young-wild-eyed guard bolted past them, shouting that he was not paid enough to deal with devil-possessed items.
From within the alley came more cries and the sound of clashing metal. The two artists listened to it for a few seconds before Verrocchio turned towards Leonardo - who hastily hid his grin - with a scowl. “Leonardo,” he said, with what his students and assistants had come to think of as The Voice; usually applied to situations that had resulted in someone ending up naked, covered in clay, or a mix of both. “What did you do?”
“We-e-e-ell…” Leonardo nervously tapped his nails together. “I… may have found an old suit of armour…” There was a distant scream from the alley, a loud smack, and a helmet rolled onto the street. Leonardo’s lips quirked at the sight, although Verrocchio’s stare did not lessen the slightest. “And I may have put a bit of clockwork in it…” A boot sailed past them, followed shortly by a panicked guard, sporting multiple colourful bruises and a shallow gorge in his cuirass, screaming to some dead ancestor for forgiveness and promising no one in particular to return to his old lifestyle as a farmer as he vanished down the streets towards the nearest gate. “And I may have hooked it up to a tripwire and given it a sword…”
There was a mighty crash, a cheer of victory, and bits of clockwork and gears rolled out of the alley. Verrocchio watched it impassionately, sighed and ran a hand over his face, and turned to walk, gesturing for the other man to follow.
“It was a blunt sword!” Leonardo insisted, hurriedly picking up the largest bits of clockwork and broke into a brief trot to catch up.
“You are a grown man, Leonardo, and so I shan’t try to correct your ways. But some day, that tendency of yours to play pranks will cause some people to retaliate violently,” Verrocchio said.
“I never try to harm anyone, though,” Leonardo muttered, mostly to himself, toying with one of the bent cogs. His mind was already coming up with six uses for that cog, then wandered down a random tangent and, two steps later, was arguing with itself over the tensile strength of a cow’s intestines.
“The more people think they have, the more fearful they are of losing face, and the more dangerous they are,” Verrocchio said, with the air of someone speaking from personal experience. “Common city guards are among the worst of such. They hold enough power to lord it over ordinary citizens, but they, themselves, are at the very bottom of the hierarchy, and, as such, abuse what little power they hold, when the opportunity presents itself. Their squad leaders are less prone to it, but still worse than their captains. The jokes that will bring a laugh from Lorenzo de’Medici - even if they are at his expense - will merely earn you a beating if you attempt the same on a guard. And unless you manage to have witnesses, well, then it would be your word against that of several guards, should you take it to court.”
“Va bene. I will be careful,” Leonardo said, and took a few steps ahead to open the door to his workshop.
Once inside, and Verrocchio had done the customary search for unwanted ears, and Leonardo the customary puttering about for glasses and a wine bottle that was fit to be served for guests, the sculptor turned to the younger man with such a serious expression that Leonardo worried he had inadvertently offended his old teacher somehow.
“Leonardo. Grandmaster Lombardi is dead. Rodrigo Borgia now leads our Order.”
Leonardo very nearly dropped the bottle of wine, and entirely missed the cup he was trying to fill. “Cazzo! Then what can we do?” he asked, hastily mopping up the small spill with a rag, used earlier in the day to clean up the jar of paint he had managed to knock over, and left the table with a fetching streak of pale red.
“We strengthen our efforts,” Verrocchio said, taking care not to accidentally get his clothes near the wine-and-paint smear. “I have found another three allies for our cause. You may have met Bartolomeo di Pasquino. I believe you joined the Order shortly after he did. “
Leonardo nodded, vaguely remembering a man a few years his senior, with a nose crooked enough to uncork bottles with. “And the other two?”
“Baccino da Firenze. He’s a tailor over in the Oltrarno district. And then Leonardo Tornabuoni.”
“A friend of Giuliano de’Medici,” the younger artist said with a frown. “It is a good idea to get the Medici involved? They are allied with the Assassins, Maestro...”
“I haven’t gone senile yet. I’m aware of that,” Verrocchio snapped, annoyed, and put down his cup perhaps a bit harder than he normally would. “But his presence will lend our cause additional political weight, and being allied with the Medici means not only that the Tornabuoni family will oppose the Pazzi, it increases our chances that the Assassin will hear our rumours from the Medici court, rather than merely on the streets.”
Leonardo’s brow lifted in surprise and just a bit of worry. “So now we try to divert the Assassin’s attention to the Pazzi as well?” he asked, setting down his cup as well. “Isn’t that a bit… risky?”
“So far, I have only heard rumours. But apparently, this… cospirazione goes deeper than either of us had suspected,” Verrocchio said. “If it is true, then Firenze stands before a great threat, and il Assassini will have much better luck than us in uncovering it. And if it turns out that it’s baseless rumours, well, then we’ll merely have been concerned citizens.”
“And if the Borgia or the Pazzi hear that we are behind the dissent?” Leonardo cautiously asked. While he did want to make the world a better place, he had yet to find the point where he would be willing to give up his life for that cause, and he had heard enough whispers of how Rodrigo Borgia had managed to rise until he had the ear of the Pope himself.
“Ah, but therein lies the strength of increasing our numbers,” the sculptor said with a smile. “They cannot move directly against us without either bringing down both the Medici and Assassins on themselves, or break apart the Order from inside fighting. And so, they cannot do anything but try to bully us into submission, or leave us to our work. Not to mention that tracking down the source of a rumour will be nigh impossible, especially so if it is done in the shop of a tailor or spread by the gossiping hens of the Medici court.”
Leonardo nodded again in understanding, although the worry still gnawed at his gut. “Va bene. When will I meet them?”
“At sunset. I’ve arranged a meeting at the osteria just north of piazza Santa Maria Novella.” Verrocchio leaned back in his seat, and offered the younger artist a smile. “We still have a few hours. Tell me about the clockwork you used for your soldato meccanico. How did you make it strong enough to dent a man’s armour?”
A few hours, it turned out, was barely enough for the explanation, the demonstration, the reconstruction, and eventual calibrating, testing, fiddling, adjusting, ducking for cover, and, of course, sketching.
Re: Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 5/? -OP
(Anonymous) 2014-02-08 02:59 am (UTC)(link)and btw!
http://imgur.com/a/NhQ90
I got into the game and took some screenshots of Leo's workshop at Venice. I'm afraid it doesn't show much though :/ but when Ezio first toured Venice with Leo, their guide had said that the workshop would just be like the one in Roma... don't know how credible that is, but oh well. x3
Thanks for the continuing updates! College exam week is hell, and this brightened my day <3
and yes, this deserves more comments x3
Re: Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 5/? -OP
(Anonymous) 2014-02-08 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)Let me know which fill you want a minifill for (or write me one). :3
Re: Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 5/? -OP
(Anonymous) 2014-02-09 02:12 am (UTC)(link)Re: Mirror, Mirror, Which is Fairest of All? 5/? -OP
(Anonymous) 2014-02-09 06:55 pm (UTC)(link)